


before the otherness came

by featherbone



Series: flesh & bone; glitter & gold [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn, Gen, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Seeker of the Sun Miqo'te (Final Fantasy XIV), Sign Language, Sometimes things happen, and you have to figure out how far you're willing to go for people you don't know, mute character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29726298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/featherbone/pseuds/featherbone
Summary: the aftermath of ifrit and some of what comes with it. not every hero is immediately willing. not every hero is properly prepared.
Relationships: Warrior of Light & Thancred Waters, Y'shtola Rhul & Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Series: flesh & bone; glitter & gold [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2184726
Kudos: 13





	before the otherness came

**Author's Note:**

> revisting ffxiv after dropping it right when i started stormblood back a couple years ago. replaying through arr steadily and getting hit by feelings and multiple wols.
> 
> no, kea isn't actually my main one. i thought about him barely a week ago and didn't stop thinking and now i'm writing fic for him. 
> 
> thought too hard about how dealing with ifrit is like worst case scenario that happens first near immediately after a 3 dungeon crunch. sometimes you want a simple life and suddenly things are no longer simple.
> 
> (i will fix any mistakes that come up later but i've stared at this for 24 hours i'm done for now)

Aether ozone and the heady scent of herbs have been following Kea for days.

It isn't a surprise, not with how many healing spells have flashed over him in the last couple of weeks, and more intensely over the last few days. So no, not surprising, just annoying in a way he doesn't care for—the smell is a bit too strong for his liking. It leaves him sneezing at intervals to clear whatever lingers but only succeeds in making him lightheaded which doesn’t help that he’s already been perpetually lightheaded from everything else.

The only one who seemed to be able to sympathize with any proper understanding was Y'shtola, who had pressed a handkerchief into his hands after they had finished their final round of healing that had left Kea with a sneezing fit so bad he almost toppled off the bed. 

"It will take time, as do most things, but you will grow used to it," she had said and seemed oh so certain about those words.

Whether she was talking about the persistent smell of healing magic or the new scarring that now wound around Kea's hands and wrists, he didn't know and did not care enough at the time to ask. Truthfully, because he was worried about what she would end up saying.

He doesn't think he wants to get used to it—not whatever the Scions are up to, at any rate. Popping in and out of the dungeons was fine, if a little harrowing at times, but that was a normal part of adventuring. He knew to expect that, so he had. 

Ifrit was not expected, not in the way that things had gone down with the kidnapping and the thralling and the death of the two other adventurers that had unfortunately found themselves trapped amid the whole thing as well. Not to mention all those that would have to be put to death because they ended up thralled in the first place. Perhaps they're dead by now, and thinking about that stings something fierce, so he doesn't let his thoughts linger in that direction for too long. Or tries not to. It had felt like a miracle that Kea and the healer had survived the battle. 

Kea had become an adventurer to make relatively easy Gil to help his mother keep her inn running smoothly back in Revenant’s Toll. Simple as that.

He had not become an adventurer to punch a Primal made of fire and get his hands blistered and bloodied and scarred in the process.

"You can change guilds you know?" Y'shtola had tutted just the other day with an undercurrent of concern in her voice that he didn't expect. (Then again, Kea doesn't know these people; he can’t expect anything about them yet.) "Perhaps something a little less hands-on could be considered."

And well, he couldn't say anything to that because she was pouring another Cure into his hands and telling him to flex his fingers so whatever scarring that would inevitably happen wouldn't stiffen his movements; exercise and a special salve would help with the rest, Y'shtola had promised. So he had rolled his eyes and mouthed _Yda_ who also liked to punch things when fighting, but she has the benefit of not having to go at Primals and needing to rip her gloves off mid-fight because the leather was melting.

"I see your point." the other Seeker had conceded but still didn't look pleased. "I'll talk to Urianger and Papalymo about commissioning you special gloves then. Boots too for that matter. Something more resistant against the elemental magicks so we can avoid this next time." 

_Next time_ , she had said, and that too held a surety that he didn’t care for.

So, to that, Kea just flicked his ear, letting the soft ringing of his jewelry answer for him. It's a nice thought, he must admit. But not for the first time, Kea thinks he ought to leave the Scions to their own troubles no matter the promised gifts.

Luckily, the topic hasn’t been broached by the two aforementioned mages yet, which could also just mean that they’re planning something anyway. Maybe they want it to be a surprise; no one here knows when his nameday is and it’s already passed for the year besides, so he has no idea when to expect it. If he’s still around to expect it, that is. 

Healers have insisted he take at least a week off to properly recover, which is fine considering that he doesn't think he's gotten a proper rest since landing in Ul'dah those moons ago.

Kea doesn’t want to make a habit of nearly dying to catch a decent break these days, adventurer or not. 

The freedom also gives him time to think about if he does want to leave, which would probably be easier done away from the Waking Sands. However, Minfilia had given him a free room and access to meals. Kea’s traveled on the road too long to turn up his nose at those sorts of free things. Sticking around in their vicinity is a small price to pay. 

Besides, most of the other Scions don’t try to interact with him and many are now starting to give him a wide berth on top of that. It has to be a combination of whatever gilded jewel of a rumor is going around about his fight with Ifrit and the simple fact not many of them know enough Eorzean Sign to keep up with him.

Which is fine. Kea is sociable, yes, and loves the company of others, but he doesn’t think he’s been good company these past few days. Except for to Tataru, maybe, but that's because he doesn't mind listening to her chatter about a book series while he helps her organize piles of paperwork.

Too bad some people are the insistent sort, but to give Thancred credit, Kea hasn’t seen the Hyur since the fight with Ifrit ended and they had to ferry themselves away back to Vesper Bay. The transpiring time after had been a blur from the pain and sudden drop of adrenaline, but Kea recalls the steady constant way Thancred had apologized up until Y’shtola and the other healers had appeared. 

“Mind if I sit?” Thancred asks, bright-eyed with a coy curl to his lips. Reminds Kea of when they first met underneath the Sultantree which by now feels like forever and a sun ago.

It’s odd, his disposition, considering what happened, and Kea has half the mind to deny the request. He’s found a nice little spot on the outside of the building where the stones are sun-warmed and the area is shaded enough to be comfortable and doesn’t feel like sharing it.

The surge of possessiveness over a spot in a building he’s coming to dislike feels childish though, so Kea tucks the book he borrowed that morning from Tataru underneath the fold of his legs and out of the way. That's an invitation enough for Thancred to take a seat across from him on the last step. There's enough room that they aren't touching, at least.

“Do you need something from me?” Kea signs as soon as he’s sure Thancred is here to talk and not just sit. His movements are a bit slow with reluctance, like asking that in particular is risking inviting something that he won’t be able to back out of. 

It’s been happening too much these days. He’s grown weary of it. 

Thancred looks a bit taken aback for whatever reason and then shakes his head, “No, no, of course not. Have people been asking you for favors already? I thought you were on bed rest.” 

“I am. Doesn’t mean some people don’t try if they spot me,” he frowns, feels his tail flick along the warm stone. The brass ring he wears makes a dull sound when it hits the ground. “I haven’t left for a reason, besides needing to stick around for the healing sessions.” 

“Right, right, of course,” Thancred nods, and whatever easy-going attitude he came here with doesn’t seem to last long, slipping off his face for whatever reason, “I can at least talk to some of the locals about letting up on the requests.”

Kea finds himself responding automatically, feeling a flash rush of indignation curl along his spine. It comes from somewhere he can’t place yet, “No. It’s fine. I just need a break.”

Honestly, getting the locals to let up would be helpful. If this work has the potential to get more demanding, does he really need to do things as time-consuming as speaking to employees and looking for lost items all the time? The best answer is _probably not_ , but the idea of someone else making another decision for him causes annoyance to spark in a way he doesn’t often feel. 

Whether or not his shift in mood is registered, Kea doesn’t know, and Thancred doesn’t seem inclined to point it out. So a silence stretches in which they don't do much of anything with only the sound of the waves and surrounding area filling in the backdrop. Kea takes the time to try and settle a bit more because while he is irritated, he isn’t keen on taking his frustrations out on helpful people. 

“Well,” Thancred starts again after a few seconds have passed, “I did come out here for an actual reason. You know, Kea, you are hard to find.”

Considering he didn’t want to be found, that makes sense, but no need to mention that. Instead, he prompts Thancred to continue with a raised eyebrow and expectant look.

“I wanted to apologize about the Ifrit ordeal, properly.”

Kea signs, confused, “I swear you’ve apologized for that at least five times by now.”

“I said properly now that you’re more coherent," he smiles but it doesn't last long at all, "I know no one could have predicted what was going to happen, but some of the fault has to fall onto me. I shouldn’t have left you alone and that’s that.”

“I’m not a child, Thancred,” Kea frowns. He would like to blame someone for the whole mess because that makes things easier to deal with, but he's always been a bit prideful.

Thancred's hands raise, placating, “Of course, I know, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are relatively new to the adventuring thing and new to the Scions besides." He drops his hands and Kea doesn't know him well enough to place whatever tone finds its way in his voice next, "Do you see where I’m going with this?”

“Yes, and it’s—” _fine_ he almost signs out of habit because he's found it's the easiest way to end conversations if they start getting into territory he doesn’t want to approach yet. But it isn't fine, none of it is. They both know that, “It happened. It’s over. I’m alive.”

“For some things, that is all we can ever hope for which sounds positively gloomy when said out loud." Thancred laughs and Kea thinks there isn't anything in it.

Silence between them settles again. The smell comes back, mixed this time with the salt scent of the bay and the chamomile of the salve. Kea does his best not to sneeze and ends up scrunching his nose in a way that makes Thancred amused if the light puff of laughter he hears has anything to say about it. 

“You know,” Thancred starts again, his tone more conversational than expected when he says, “no one would blame you if you wanted to back out of this after what happened.”

Which is shocking to hear, to say the least. He wonders if it’s a Thancred thought or something he and the other five talked about in the time that has passed. Kea knows they’ve must have talked about something in that special room of theirs. They haven’t needed him yet, so he hasn’t been privy to whatever is going on behind that door. 

Kea sighs through his nose and decides to admit, “I have been thinking, and I will need more time before answering.”

Thancred smiles, again, but it’s small, “That sounds entirely fair, but until then you are here, I suppose,” he changes the tune of his voice, something brighter, “I caught wind that the chef is making chicken and mushroom stew for lunch. You like that, don’t you? Swore I saw you order it a few times back in Ul’dah.” 

“I do. I did.” Kea signs slowly, thinking, and then picks up speed in his realization, “You were watching me that closely in Ul’dah?”

“I was watching a lot of people closely in Ul’dah.” Thancred shrugs and hops up in one smooth motion, “It’s what I do. Now come on, it’s almost lunch and you know how the others get when the good stuff gets made. Maybe if we’re polite, we’ll get extra.” 

Kea delivers a flat look, not very impressed, but doesn’t point anything out, “Right, sure. I’ll come with you,” grabbing the book when he stands and figures, there’s nothing better to do anyway. 

He will make his decision soon, but what are a few more bells or a couple more days in their company? 

**Author's Note:**

> something something the weight of kea's and thancred's individual expectations and all the ways they can mess up and affect others negatively with their mistakes is now setting in and they arent coping while also juggling trying to navigate each other. 
> 
> thanks for coming to my tedtalk. the title is from _as it was_ by hozier.


End file.
